My Little Sister's Visit
Chapter 7: Air Hockey Showdown
This story takes place in the summer of 1970, a year or so before I met Jean.
There are no cell phones, no personal computers, and no internet.
No one under 18 has sex.
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I originally intended this chapter to be followed by the poker game and a Happy Ever After ending. As a result, it contains heavy Nonconsent/Reluctance material that may seem out of place if you were expecting a gradual transition from unspoken desires to intense sexual content.
However, as I wrote this story, I recalled additional details from my little sister's visit that I think are essential to relate. I hope the extra chapters will give the reader a deeper understanding of my sister's journey from an innocent Catholic high school student to a sensual adult woman.
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After a steamy afternoon of skinny dipping, smoking several potent joints, and twice having sex with my gorgeous sister, I was famished. Megan had weakly protested when I suggested stopping for pizza, but she had been uncharacteristically quiet since I started driving. I had the top down on my old Austin Healey, and the warm breeze helped to revive me.
However, I was still flying as high as I'd ever been on marijuana, and I acted out my perverted fantasy to drive around Collegetown and show off my gorgeous sister. Megan seemed lost in thought when I parked, but then she had smoked a lot more of the local farmer's inhibition melting marijuana than me.
Thanks to the police raid while we were skinny dipping, my poor sister had lost all her clothes, including her underwear. I wondered if she was nervous about her scanty outfit that consisted of nothing more than the short muscle shirt I had loaned her and a small threadbare towel wrapped low around her hips. The sweaty top was tight across her plump breasts, and she needed the towel because the shrunken muscle shirt barely covered her belly button. I could see a hint of her dark pink areoles through the thin cotton top. The ragged towel was so small that she had to hold the ends together to keep it from falling off. I patted her on her shoulder as I admired the side of her plump breast exposed by a gaping armhole.
"I'll only be a moment. Tony's always has pizza ready to go."
I'd forgotten about it being alumni week. Despite being told it was a forty-five minutes wait, I placed an order. Tony offered me a basket of warm garlic breadsticks if I bought a pitcher of beer and played air hockey. When I went out to bring my sister inside, I found her surrounded by a group of alumni who were giving her a hard time. She surprised me by using the phrase that indicated she didn't want my help. I watched her scramble out of my convertible when a distant clap of thunder frightened her. My sister's towel snagged on the door, leaving her naked from the waist down. The burly alumni were on her in an instant. Only the arrival of a strong thunderstorm ended what looked like the beginning of a gang bang.
Once Megan was dressed, I led her inside the pizza parlor to escape the storm. My scantily clad sister attracted whistles and catcalls as I guided her through the small crowded dining area with my arm around her bare waist. My tall, blond, beautifully tanned sister was the personification of the Southern California beach goddess. I felt proud to have her beside me as I led her around the corner to the noisy game room.
The din of noise from a dozen pinball machines slowly diminished as every eye in the room turned to stare at my sister. On the other hand, my eyes were focused on the bright, shiny, new air hockey tables that had replaced the old battered ones that I had learned on. The new tables didn't have a single cigarette burn on them. I slipped a quarter into the slot, and the table hummed with power. I patted my sister on the ass and watched her hips sway as she hurried to the other end of the table. I noticed the gap between the ends of her skimpy towel exposed her long tan leg up to the top, where her left hand held the corners of the towel together. A large hole on her right hip exposed most of the side of her butt.
I heard someone comment in a loud whisper. "Fuck me. I don't think the slut's wearing panties under that rag."
Soon after we started playing, the owner sent over a large basket of warm breadsticks with our pitcher of beer. I told Megan the house rule was the loser of each game had to chug a glass of beer. My sister accepted without blinking and told me I was going down. I was impressed with her ability, but I had little difficulty beating her soundly in the first game, 21-7. She had a severe handicap. To preserve her modesty, she was forced to play with one hand holding the ends of her small towel together.
Meanwhile, I could lean over the table with one hand on the edge for support. This allowed me to sweep my striker quickly anywhere I wanted across my half. It was a significant advantage being able to take shots close to the centerline without losing my balance.
I was pleasantly surprised when she chugged her beer and bet ten dollars on the second game. I happily accepted her wager, and once again, I beat her handily. Hell, she didn't have a chance. I had been playing air hockey at Tony's for years while doing my laundry across the street.
She guzzled her second beer and smiled. "Double or nothing."
I think it was her smirk that caused me to accept her bet. My sister had always had a competitive streak. As a young girl, she constantly challenged my older brothers and me to various silly contests. I remember she lost a lot, but the bets usually involved cookies or candy. I think she just liked the attention from her brothers. Tonight, I let nostalgia get the better of me.
I slaughtered my little sister in the next game. Once again, she offered me double or nothing. After losing the third game, my sister again doubled the bet. I accepted her wager of eighty dollars with a smile. I knew it was all she had to her name. When she lost this game, she would be broke. I had a fantasy about how she could earn enough to play poker tonight.
By this point, we had an enthusiastic crowd watching us, or more likely watching my sister's generous breasts bounce around and threaten to escape from the tight-fitting muscle shirt. From my vantage point, I could see the tops of her luscious breasts and the shadows of her nipples dancing around as she vigorously defended her goal. Guys standing off to the side were treated to the glorious sight of her jiggling beauties through the large armholes. I can only imagine the intoxicating view the heavyset guys standing behind her had.
Despite downing three beers and the handicap of playing one-handed, my sister's game changed dramatically. I was surprised when she managed to tie the score at twenty-one. The house rules called for an eleven-point playoff round.